


The Lonely Ghost

by flashforeward



Category: Eerie Indiana
Genre: Christmas, Gen, Ghosts, Haunting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 09:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5328758
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flashforeward/pseuds/flashforeward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon, Mars, and Dash confront a ghost on Christmas Eve and things don't really go according to plan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Lonely Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> For the Eerie Advent Calender. The Prompt was "That's not eggnog..."

Marshall ran up to the secret spot, his heart pounding in his chest. He had to get there before...He stuttered to a stop on the second floor landing, staring at Syndi with wide eyes. She took in the sight before her, her eyes trailing down from his face to the white stain standing out against the blue of his Giants sweatshirt.

 

"Little too much eggnog, Mars?" Syndi asked.

 

Marshall cringed. "It's not eggnog," he said without thinking.

 

Syndi raised an eyebrow. "Well, then I really don't want to know," she said. She stepped past Marshall and started down the stairs before Mars realized what she meant.

 

"No, no, it's ectoplasm," he called out.

 

"Don't care, Mars," his sister replied, disappearing around the corner into the living room.

 

Mars sighed. This was exactly why he hadn't wanted to run into anyone. How do you explain a goopy white spot on your clothes without embarrassing yourself? He knew his family wouldn't believe the truth, which meant they'd go with their own interpretation - he should have taken Syndi's eggnog assumption and run with it, but he hadn't been focused on what was happening. He'd been a little preoccupied with what _had_ happened.

 

- -

 

"Why are you so grumpy?" Dash asked, leaning against a nearby tree, watching Marshall with a steady, piercing gaze. Simon was working on setting up his new spirit detecting equipment. He'd gotten it off the back of a cereal box and, when it arrived, spent days on end in the basement of the World O'Stuff improving on the design. Now they were out in the Eerie woods, investigating some strange sounds and lights that had been witnessed over the past few weeks. Simon was excited to test out his new equipment, Dash X was, he claimed, just making sure Mars and Simon didn't get themselves dead. Neither of them seemed to mind that they were out late on Christmas Eve.

 

Marshall kicked at the pine needles beneath his feet. "It's Christmas," he said, "you know, family time? Gather round the tree? Sip eggnog and sing carols?"

 

Dash cocked an eyebrow and Mars had to look away. "In case you'd forgotten, Slick, I don't have a family," he said. He glanced at Simon and bit at his lip, but didn't say what he was thinking - that was Simon's burden to bear, not his. "And we are gathered around a tree," he said instead. "You can sing carols if you want. Maybe it'll make whatever we're looking for show itself."

 

Marshall looked up and glared at Dash, who just gave him a cheeky grin.

 

\--

 

In the secret spot, Marshall carefully scraped the white substance from his shirt and into a petri dish he had liberated from science class last week. He capped it, sealed it, and labeled it.  _Ectoplasm from the Lonely Ghost_ . Just thinking about it sent a shiver down his spine. Still, he had to do this properly. He set the petri dish carefully in its place in the evidence locker then sat down and pulled his notebook towards him - it was the fourth such notebook, Mars having filled up three others over the past few years - and began to write down his log of what had happened that night.

 

\--

 

"All set," Simon said, standing up. He glanced from Marshall to Dash and blew out an exasperated breath, rolling his eyes. "Is it possible for the two of you to get along for even just one minute?" he asked.

 

"No," Marshall said at the same time that Dash said, "Ask Teller." This resulted in more glaring.

 

"Right, good we cleared that up," Simon said. He looked down at the device he'd been setting up, then back up at Marshall and Dash. "So far its not picking up anything except some residual spirit energy, so we should do something to draw the ghost out."

 

"Something like what?" Mars asked.

 

"Sing Christmas carols?" Dash suggested.

 

Marshall stormed towards him, ready to turn this into a fight. Simon grabbed Marshall's shoulder as he passed. "If you're violent, the spirit will likely be violent," he said. "It's in all the literature." Marshall sighed and glared at Dash, but he backed down - he didn't want a violent spirit. "I think," Simon said, "I think Dash's idea might be a good one," he said, not meeting Marshall's gaze.

 

" Why?" Marshall asked, trying really hard to ignore Dash's sneer of triumph.

 

Simon kicked at the ground. "Because the phenomena didn't start occurring until December First," he said. "I think that, if there is something out here, it's connected to Christmas."

 

Marshall blew out a breath. Logically it made sense, but he hated having to admit that Dash X was right about anything, particularly when what he was right about meant that Marshall would have to start singing and probably embarrass himself.

 

"Well, what should we sing?" he asked. Because if he was going to start singing to a ghost in the middle of the night on Christmas Eve, he damn well wasn't doing it alone.

 

Dash shrugged. "I don't know any Christmas carols, Slick," he said. "I spend Christmas trying not to freeze my ass off."

 

Marshall bit back a groan and looked at Simon, who shrugged. "I'm Jewish," he said, which was news to Marshall, which made Marshall feel like shit because how the hell hadn't he known that his best friend and partner in hunting the paranormal was Jewish?

 

\--

 

Mars sighed and stared down at the confession, black pen against white paper. He wondered what would happen if Simon ever read this account - not that he needed to, he was there, he lived through it with Mars. Still. How would he feel if he found out how little Marshall Teller really knew about him? Mars sighed and scratched out the question, vowing to start paying better attention to Simon in the future.

 

\--

 

"They're on the radio every year as soon as Thanksgiving is over!" Marshall tried, looking from Simon to Dash.

 

"My dad only listens to news programs," Simon said.

 

"In the stores?" Marshall offered, but then remembered that Mr. Radford didn't play Christmas music at the World O'Stuff and that was pretty much the only store Simon and Dash ever went to. He blew out a sigh. "Fine," he said, "Fine." He sucked in a deep breath and started a pitchy, nasally rendition of Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.

 

When Dash started laughing, he stuttered to a halt and glared, clenching his fists so hard his fingernails dug into his palms.

 

"C'mon Mars," Simon said, his gaze fixed on his device, "I think it's working, the temperature dipped while you were singing and it hasn't gone back up."

 

"I'm not doing it," Marshall grumbled, "not with him here." He nodded towards Dash.

 

"For a paranormal investigator you sure let things get to you," Dash said, rolling his eyes. "Think of me as training. I'm preparing you for when you're an adult and you tell people you investigate the occult and they laugh at you."

 

Marshall bent down, scooped a pinecone from the ground, and threw it at Dash's head.

 

And that was when the ghost decided to show itself.

 

\--

 

Mars shivered and set down his pen. He was cold all of a sudden. He closed the notebook with the pen tucked in as a bookmark, locked up the evidence locker, and headed downstairs. He could use some hot chocolate, try to get some of this cold out of his bones. He stopped in his room first, exchanging his soiled Giants sweatshirt for a generic Christmas sweater he hadn't worn in years. Surprisingly, it still fit - though he couldn't remember if it had been too big on him in the first place or if it had just stretched over the years. Though if he hadn't worn it, then how could it have stretched?

 

He shook his head. Clearly he was exhausted and should sleep, but he had to get this report written before he went to bed or he might never write it. Or he'd try to write it and forget details. So he'd go downstairs, make some hot chocolate to warm himself up, and then get back to work.

 

On his way out the door, he glanced at the clock on his wall. It was seven in the morning. It was Christmas.

 

He wondered how much trouble he'd be in when he got downstairs.

 

In the kitchen, Syndi was sitting at the table eating cereal - the second part of the large breakfast she ate every morning - and reading the newspaper. She was hoping to get an internship at the Eerie Examiner and liked to read the news not just to know what was going on in the world, but also to familiarize herself with the styles of the reporters already working on the paper. She was dedicated to this journalism thing, much to their parent's chagrin.

 

"Hey," Marshall said, filling up the kettle and setting it on the stove. Syndi gave him a quick wave, but she was engrossed with whatever she was reading. Fine with Marshall, made it easier to get his cocoa and get back to work. Except... He looked around, seeing no signs of the whirlwind of his father or mother anywhere in the kitchen. It was seven o'clock on Christmas morning. No way they were still asleep. "Syndi, where are mom and dad?" he asked, a little afraid of what the answer would be.

 

Syndi looked up, then looked around the kitchen as though surprised to find that their parents weren't there as well. "Are they still sleeping?" she asked, glancing at her watch. She shrugged, met Marshall's eye. "Well, it is Christmas, they deserve to sleep in."

 

"Yeah," Marshall said, pouring boiling water into his mug and stirring absentmindedly. "Yeah." He picked up his mug and started to walk slowly back out of the kitchen, thinking. He supposed Syndi had a point, except he couldn't think of a time when his parents had ever slept in. As he walked back up to the secret spot, careful not to spill any hot chocolate on the floor, he gnawed at his lip, worrying that somehow the ghost from last night had affected his parents.

 

\--

 

Marshall hung against a tree, pressed there by an invisible force that felt like ice and spread cold through his whole body. "What the hell?" he gasped out, struggling against the nothing that held him in place.

 

"I told you not to get violent," Simon said matter-of-factly.

 

"I'm sorry!" Marshall shouted. "Just get me down from here, okay?"

 

"It's not going to be that easy," Simon said. Mars couldn't see him, but his tone of voice suggested he was studying the monitors of his spirit detector. "You really pissed it off, Mars."

 

"Next time sing on key," Dash chipped in.

 

"Not helpful, X," Simon said. Mars hung there, waiting for Dash's retort, but none came. Odd. After a few more moments, as Mars was starting to think it might be nice to fall asleep, Simon spoke again. "Hello," he said, "would you mind putting my friend down? He didn't mean to make you angry, our other friend tries to rile him up on purpose."

 

Mars remained pinned to the tree, but he heard an "oof" that sounded suspiciously like Dash getting pushed. _Good_ , Mars thought, and the cold got worse.

 

"No, no, I didn't mean attack him, too!" Simon called out. Mars heard running and Simon was speaking to Dash but his voice was too quiet and why had Simon run to Dash's side but not to Marshall's? The cold got worse again.

 

"I'm sorry!" Marshall shouted through chattering teeth. A moment later he fell to the ground, landing in a shivering heap. He heard Dash scream again and had to bite his tongue to keep from thinking how much Dash deserved it.

 

"Don't!" Simon called out. "Please, please stop hurting my friends!"

 

Marshall managed to roll over and see what was going on. Dash was curled up on the ground, shaking and crying and screaming. "Apologize!" Mars shouted. "Just say you're sorry!"

 

Dash spasmed and for a moment Marshall thought he was shaking his head - stubborn bastard. But then, a few moments later, very faintly, Marshall heard him say it. His voice was shaking and it was barely more than a whisper, but Mars could tell when the entity pulled back from him. He was still shaking, but he could move his head. He glared across at Marshall, who shrugged as best he could.

 

He looked over at Simon, wondering how he was going to handle this. Mars and Dash were useless now, after all. Simon stood still, glaring around him, searching for the ghost. He was, Marshall realized after a moment, crying.

 

\--

 

"Hey, Mars?" Syndi knocked on the door to the secret spot and stepped in. Marshall was clutching his cocoa to his chest with one hand while he wrote with the other. He glanced up at her, resisting the urge to glare - she wasn't supposed to be in the secret spot. She came in anyway, leaning against the desk. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked down at him as he tried to hide the notebook from her without putting down his mug. "Mom and Dad aren't in their room," she said.

 

Mars gave up trying to hide his record and stared at her. "What?" he asked.

 

"I just went to wake them to see if they wanted to open presents but they weren't there."

 

Marshall dropped his pen and stood up. "We better go find them," he said.

 

Syndi held up a hand. "We need a plan first, genius," she said. "I'll go make some phone calls, see if anyone has heard from them. You...you can keep doing whatever you're doing and I'll come get you when I'm ready to go look for them, okay?"

 

Marshall hesitated. It felt wrong to not be doing anything, but maybe she had a point. Mars had a tendency to just barrel into things and, well, it never seemed to turn out well. He blew out a breath and sat down with a nod. "All right," he said, "but we should go soon."

 

Syndi gazed down at him, a look in her eyes. "I promise," she said before disappearing back down the stairs.

 

\--

 

A white, translucent form appeared in the air before Simon. "Hurt you," a voice said, though Marshall wasn't sure if the ghost spoke or if it was all in their heads. "They. Hurt you."

 

Simon shook his head violently. "No, no they didn't hurt me. They were helping me. We." He gnawed at his lip and glanced from Dash to Mars then back up at the ghost. "We want to help you."

 

"Hurt me," the ghost whispered, and Marshall cringed, afraid he was going to be attacked again. From where he lay on the ground, he saw that Dash did the same. "They. Hurt me."

 

Simon furrowed his brow and nodded slowly. "Who?" he asked. "Who is they?"

 

The ghost flickered out of sight, then back, then out again.

 

"I'm sorry," Simon said quickly. "I didn't mean to upset you it's just...we want to give you peace."

 

"I'll never have peace." This time the voice was definitely a voice and it was a familiar voice and it came from behind Simon. He turned around slowly while Mars and Dash craned their necks to see. The ghost had taken on a more human form, though it was still transparent, it was clear who it was.

 

Standing in front of Simon was Simon.

 

"You will never find peace," the ghost Simon said.

 

\--

 

"They're next door." Syndi was back, leaning in the doorway. She looked worried.

 

"What's up?" Marshall asked.

 

"Harley called mom this morning because Simon wasn't talking to anyone," Syndi explained. "His parents didn't seem to care, so he called mom and she and dad went to see what was going on."

 

"Jeez," Marshall whispered, setting his pen down. "Is Simon okay?"

 

Syndi looked down at him, then shook her head. "You're hopeless, do you know that?" she asked. "I'm going next door. And I'm taking the cookies."

 

\--

 

"What are you talking about?" Simon demanded. "What are you doing?"

 

"I'm showing you the truth," ghost Simon replied. "This is your future. I am your future." Simon only stared and ghost Simon laughed a low, cruel laugh. "You're going to die, Simon Holmes, and you're going to haunt the Eerie woods at Christmas because Christmas is a time for family and you? You don't really have one, do you?"

 

"I have a family," Simon said, his voice quiet. Marshall wished he could stand. Wished he could get up and go to his friend, comfort him.

 

"Your father's a waste and your mother's never around, Simon," ghost Simon said. "All you've got is your brother and he's just a burden, isn't he? You have to take care of him, feed him, comfort him. When do you get to be a child, Simon? What kind of family is that?"

 

"I have the Tellers," Simon said. "And Dash."

 

Marshall was a little taken aback by that, but even as the thought crossed his mind he felt the cold start to intensify. He cast it aside, forcing himself to agree that Dash had, in fact, become part of the family. It wasn't until after ghost Simon spoke again that Marshall realized what that must mean, and by then it was too late.

 

"The Teller's tolerate you and that one," ghost Simon nodded at Dash, "is only out for his own skin." He laughed again. "And for Marshall? For Marshall you're just a tool."

 

"No," Marshall whispered. Then, louder. "No, Simon, don't listen!" He struggled to sit up as the truth dawned on him: "It's a trick, Simon, it's tricking you!"

 

For Marshall and Dash it had used violence because Marshall and Dash were violent. For Simon, Simon who thought things through, Simon who used his brain and words before his fists, it had to try something else. Marshall managed to stand and he lunged towards Simon's forgotten equipment, grabbing the dispersal ray up from where it lay. He pointed it not at the ghostly Simon confronting his friend with lies, but at the area where he had fallen.

 

Ghost Simon screamed and Marshall felt colder again for a moment before that, too, faded and ghost Simon was gone.

 

He and Dash helped Simon pack up his supplies. Dash disappeared back to the Old Hitchcock Mill while Mars helped Simon carry his things back to his house. He gave Mars a small smile as he took his things and went into his house, leaving Marshall outside. He looked down at himself, groaning at the ectoplasm down his front, and headed back home, hoping he'd have time for some sleep before he had to get up to open Christmas presents.

 

\--

 

Marshall closed the notebook and set it in the evidence locker, carefully closing and locking it. Simon had seemed okay after the ghost dissipated. Could he have hidden it that well? Mars groaned, leaning his head against the evidence locker. Of course he could. Simon's entire life was hiding things - hiding how bad his parents were, hiding how hungry he and Harley were, hiding how many nights he was left in charge.

 

Hiding how much he hurt.

 

Marshall kicked at the chair he'd been sitting in, then hurried down the stairs, leaving his empty mug in the secret spot. He'd take care of it later. He had something he had to do.

 

\--

 

"I'm sorry," Marshall said as soon as Harley had led him into Simon's room. Simon was curled up on his bed, hugging his knees to himself, staring ahead of him. Marshall set down his purchase from the World O'Stuff and dug a lighter out of his pocket. "I hear," he said in a quiet, calm voice, "that this is supposed to drive out darkness." He cleared his throat as he lit the first candle. "I'm not sure about all the ceremony or anything but, well, I thought you could use it, you know? Get some darkness out of there." Slowly, his hand shaking, Marshall lit all eight candles, then sat down on the bed. "You're not a tool, you know that, right?" he said, eyes fixed on the Menorah. "You're. You're amazing. You not only thought to get the spirit devices you also knew how to improve them and. And you're the one who noticed the phenomena out there in the first place and...," Mars trailed off and glanced at Simon, but he still hadn't moved. Mars ran a hand through his hair and looked back at the Menorah. "Sometimes I think you're a better paranormal investigator than I am and. And I think it's awesome."

 

He blew out a breath. "And my parents? My parents rushed over here with Christmas Dinner to make sure that you were okay. They love you, Simon, they love you so much. You're. You're not just the kid next door, Simon, you never were. You're like. You're like my little brother. No. No you are. You and Harley you're our family.

 

"And Dash. Dash yeah he's out for himself, but he obviously likes you more than he'll ever like me. And sometimes. Sometimes I think he likes you more than he likes himself and well," he shrugged. "I guess his taste isn't too bad, then, huh?"

 

The silence dragged between them as Marshall's babbling trailed off. Marshall's heart ached in his chest as he waited for something - anything - to happen.

 

There was a strangled laugh from Simon and Marshall's heart lept to his throat and he turned and Simon lunged for him, his whole body shaking as he cried. Marshall turned and wrapped his arms around Simon, holding him, watching the candles on the Menorah flickering. Driving out the darkness.

 


End file.
